His Latest Flame
by UglyChristmasJumper
Summary: University life brings controversial changes in lifestyle to both Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak, what begins as a welcomed friendship transcends into a blossoming love affair like no other. His Latest Flame is a story of trust, anguish and overcoming impossible odds in order to be with someone who needs to be loved.


**His Latest Flame**

**22nd September, 2013**

"Take a deep breath, Cas. That's it. Inhale and exhale, that's all you have to do for the whole day. Breathe." Castiel Novak assesses himself in his gold-rimmed mirror, which sits delicately above a porcelain sink. "Everybody is in the same situation right now. You are no different. There's only one class today. You can do this. You can make friends." Castiel cards fingers through his unruly, chestnut hair and drags it over his eyes. Now with only one eye peering out, he grimaces to the mirror and puffs a breath out, shaking his head so his hair falls back into its usual place. Turning away, he struggles through the bathroom door, his large bag pack rubbing against the door frame. He had rushed back into his home at the last second before leaving, just to give himself a small pep talk. Even if it was the third one of this morning.

Castiel didn't bother with driving to college today, the locals had said it was "warm out" as the sun was shining and there was a little less wind than usual; but Castiel only chose to nod and smile at their suggestions instead of getting into a heated discussion. Today was not warm out. Today was practically winter. Since moving from Arizona only a few days previously, Castiel was suffering from the loss of scorching heat that would be perpetually soaked into his skin if he was still in his hometown. Heavens knows how the slight temperature drop could be detected by Castiel, the few degrees difference usually only meant an extra t-shirt for travellers from Phoenix to Lawrence, Kansas, but not Castiel. This morning he had donned his usual dress shirt and slim blue jeans but had felt the heat loss so significant that he had thrown on top of that: a black jumper, a sports jacket, his trench coat and was seriously considering digging out gloves had he not deemed this to be completely unnecessary when he glanced outside and saw his neighbours sauntering around in vest tops and shorts.

Nevertheless, he was chilly. In the short time he'd lived in his modest bachelor pad of a bungalow, he had developed a cold, despite the fact he never even entertained the idea of even once going out during "Fresher's week" he insisted to himself that he could blame his sniffles and coughs in class due to the common "fresher's flu" that's everyone was bound to be suffering that week. With this in mind, he didn't feel as self-conscious reaching into the deep pockets of his coat to retrieve his handkerchief, bowing his head to those who sympathetically looked his way as if they wanted to convey the fact that, man, they'd been there, and it's okay if he was suffering too. Castiel wouldn't tell anybody on his first day that he'd never even touched a drink before, and his cold was actually common and not even his goose-feathered duvet could chase it away during his nights in. his evident lack of street cred didn't need to sink any further, really.

Castiel would have loved to have arrived earlier to class on the very first day, but due to his worrying and the teasing of his never-sit-still hair, he was going to be late. "Oh, heck." He grumbled to himself as he picked up his pace, bag bouncing on his shoulders and against his butt as he quick-dodged it around lazy college students idly walking to class, some people were here to get an education, y'know. "And I'm one of them." He thought, grimacing, mentally noting also that he was almost _two minutes late _for his first ever lecture. If he ran, he might make it before the second hand marked that he was three minutes late. But if he did run, so would his nose, and he didn't particularly want the first impression of being the sweaty, mucus dripping kid on the first day of classes. No, no, this year, he was going to be cool. He was God-damn determined of it. he ran this though through his head and slowed down a little, but only when he say the building he was due to be in. due to be in it 3 minutes ago. Castiel burst through the double doors, rushing down a hall and down and back up a flight of spiral stairs before he finally reached his class. "Sorry I'm-" he didn't finish his sentence because clearly no one was listening. The wide space was occupied by – well, almost everybody there could be.

Castiel stared. He quickly scanned the room, not subtle at all, drinking in the various faces and features. There were girls and boys, tall and short, fat and skinny, Asian and Lebanese, gorgeous and – oh, god, how many pairs of eyelashes are they wearing –like people, milling around the room like they owned the space, and they did. Castiel could feel their confidence shaking off them, bouncing off walls and echoing around the room, each personality trying to big bigger than the other. Each person carried an instrument: cello, guitar, violin, and trumpet. Some were carrying sheet music, and the ones with neither were stood up straight and tall, humming low and practicing warming up their singing voices. With a jolt, Castiel realised he had forgotten his most vital thing for his first day of classes, ever. His confidence.

A rotund man entered the room and called for silence, then casually directed that everybody find a seat. There was rapid shuffling and Castiel was jostled more than once by large brass instruments and large, brash people, he waited until everybody else was comfortable until he slunk into a seat facing the door. He just had to remind himself he was only in this class for a year. He could become invisible, nobody would even have to notice him here, and he could live through it, pass and move on to his actual studies that he was desperate to get started with. Alas, that wouldn't be the case, it seemed.

"Is there a Mr Castiel Novak here?" the lecturer at the front bellowed across the room, his Soprano voice hitting the depths of classmates' trombones and trumpets as it called out for him. Castiel raised a shaky hand and cleared his voice, trying to sound like he definitely belonged here.

"Yes, sir?" Castiel's voice seemed almost meek in the silence that followed. Everyone else had been so loud and vibrant, and in his first few moments, Castiel had been identified as the loser of the class. That's what he believed anyway, as he felt his self-esteem slowly ebb away into the cracks of his bones. He tried again. "Yes. Sir?" The lecturer did not bother to approach him, preferring to speak publically rather than privately.

"Mr Novak, I am aware you will only be here for the year so I would advise that me and you become acquainted almost immediately. You have a lot to get through, and seeing as you're studying with another subject, it would be preferred to myself that you turn in your assignments early, just in case extra tweaking needs to be made. Is that clear, Mr Novak?"

"Yessir." Castiel's voice shrunk again. Heads turned in his direction, themselves now eying up him as opposed to the other way round. Great, now they knew. Now they knew he wasn't a _real _music student, he was here simply because he needed a side year in another field. They had probably worked their asses off to be where they are right now, but he hadn't. He'd simply had to ask and they opened their doors wide for him. A law student who wanted a side study in music? Unheard of! The other law candidates were participating in English Literature, Criminology, and Architecture. They were "academic subjects" and music simply, well… wasn't.

Castiel sank back into the plush cushions of his seat as the lecture began. His nose began to run and he reached into his pocket for his handkerchief, only to grasp at thin air. He let out a guttural groan when he realised it was gone. This lecture was due to last another two hours, and he had no way of mopping up his nose that had apparently sensed his situation and had decided that right now was the perfect time for it to start dripping like a faucet. Castiel sniffed, just to save the embarrassment of getting up and leaving, admitting to his new classmates that his nose had decided to sabotage him worse than the lecturer had.

Castiel sniffed repeatedly over the two hour lesson. He could tell that the people around him were beginning to get annoyed, and a blush rose to his cheeks now every time he was forced to do it. It was really either between blowing his nose on his trench coat and sitting for the rest of the forty-five minutes they had left sniffling, Castiel knew what option he liked better, as there was simply no budging from his seat to go and get a tissue. No, he'd had enough of notice for one day. Plus, he didn't know how the lecturer would react to that; he didn't particularly want to find out. Castiel took this time to look around at his colleagues once more. His eyes skimmed past the different and unusual faces, a tiny part of him at the back of his mind thinking "maybe, by the end of this year, they will be my friend," he smiled hopefully whenever this thought flashed to his mind's eye; he made an effort to smile at people if they gave him eye contact. A girl with a pixie cut and deadly eyes gave him an under-lidded stare, grinning with only the corner of her mouth. When she winked, Castiel's eyes flashed away in nervousness. Holy hell, he'd forgotten there'd be girls in college. Real girls. He continued to flit his baby blues around the table opposite him, once again meeting eyes with a girl. She didn't smile at him. She had auburn hair that was cut at an angle and round, anime eyes that were decorated all in black. No, she didn't smile: she bared her teeth at him and when he was confused, and this evidently showed on his face, as she closed her eyes and bit her lip in his direction. When she peered a lid open, Castiel was furiously staring at the ground, trying to appear like he hadn't seen what he had just witnessed, acting like he'd been observing at his shoes the whole time instead. As if his brown lace ups were interesting at all.

Bending his head caused all of the mucus that was built up in his nose to come rushing forward and with Castiel was once again sniffling, louder than ever, his face turning maroon as student's dazed faces turned towards him with a collective, "dude, what the fuck?" look on their faces.

Castiel hears the door open and close and looks up in the hope that the teacher has fled the room and maybe he can escape too to wipe up his mess that is causing everybody to universally hate him, _on his first day. _Dimly, he notices the ball-shaped man at the front enthusiastically speaking about guitar strings and the correct sitting position to hold said guitar in: he drops his head and prays to God and all the archangels that the ground will just open up and swallow him down to hell, right now. Please.

When his prayer isn't granted, Castiel just about gives up all faith of humanity, deity and warm weather when a wad of tissues is thrown onto his desk, a blessed pile of white silk to Castiel's eyes right now. However, the tissues he's been dying for the last hour or so became significantly less beautiful when he gazed adoringly up into the face of the God or Goddess of paper tissues who deemed him worthy for such a gift. Castiel's breath hitched in his throat, a gurgling, baby sound pressed between his lips was stuttered and silenced in the presence of the man standing above him. Framed by the weak overhead light, the man's features stood out darkly in contrast. In one shuddering, daring stare, Castiel drank in the man's looks: deep angles chiselled his face and created a prominent, strong jaw line that was dusted with charcoal bristles that spread down towards the darkness of his neck. His cheeks were slightly gaunt, producing sharp cherub-cheekbones and a pointed, tanned nose that let up to his deeply harrowing brows, that framed… oh my, what they framed. The man's eyes were as green as peacock feathers, as round as a penny, and as piercing as a howl in the night. Even with a risky gawk, the eyes penetrated Castiel, through his eyes and into his mind, his head, into his thoughts. The man's expression was friendly, smiling, his plump lips curving into a cupid's bow as his eyes crinkled becomingly. He nodded once to Castiel, moving backwards before turning back to his seat, directly opposite Castiel's.

Castiel was dumbstruck. Still staring in the place the man had been, his hands gripped the tissues and he blew his nose. There were sighs of relief around him, just as the bell signalling the end of class sounded. The class filtered out, and Castiel was just left sitting in his chair by himself, his mind still occupied with thoughts of that opulent face gazing down upon him, bestowing him with the things he needed the most in that instant.

That was the crucial moment in time that Castiel decided he would find out who in holy hell this man was.

The next day, the weather had taken a bitter turn for the worst. It was as if God had sensed that Castiel had a cold and thought "ah, yes, let's make it colder." Castiel arrived at college bundled up in several more layers of clothing than the day before, including gloves and a scarf, hand knitted by his cousin, Balthazar. It was black and trimmed with an azure finish, identically matching the colour of Castiel's eyes. Castiel always assumed Balthazar had a good eye for detail, but when he was presented with the scarf for his 16th birthday, Castiel had known for sure that one day Balthazar would go on to create a whole fashion line based on the colour of autumn leaves, or write a full novel on the sound of a ticking clock; he was only eight at the minute though, but Castiel believed he was destined for greatness, much like his wise brother Gabriel who could charm and trick any person into getting what he wanted. He imagined Gabriel would end up being a rich celebrity who are famous for simply being famous… either that or being a celebrity blogger who knows all the details, as if the stars themselves poured their gossip into his ear for him to write about. Which they probably would do. At the time Castiel was given the scarf, he wondered why on Earth he was receiving such an item when he lived in one of the hottest states across America, but now he thought maybe Balthazar had wanted him to get away and live his own life, much like his father had wished him to do. "Go out, make friends, stop being such a "family man" and get a girlfriend, for god's sake!" were Castiel's father's exact words. Although the words hadn't hurt, it made Castiel feel as though his eighteen years had been wasted when he was only trying to help out his dad during a difficult period of growing up.

Nevertheless, Castiel was thankful for the warmth of the scarf on this biting day. He even wore it when he was in his car, with the heaters blasting and windows rolled tightly shut. It gave him a sense of home almost, being so warm and engulfed in the smell of his family house.

Castiel climbed out of the car into the cold air. He braced himself as he stumbled across the campus, wondering how on earth people were walking in just jeans and a jacket. It was ludicrous; he shook his head repeatedly as he passed past girls in tights and cardigans, boys in loose chinos and vest tops. This was ridiculous; he couldn't be the only one thinking it. He hated to judge people on their appearance but come on, these people must be crazy! He continued to think these thoughts as he entered his first ever law class, music not being on the timetable for today.

He was in two minds about whether or not he was disappointed that he didn't have music on Tuesdays. The subject he was actually studying for – law – was a great subject to have frequently, with music not being an absolute necessity, however he was torn between not wanting to face public embarrassment and wanting to see that beautiful, strange man again. Castiel hadn't been able to stop thinking about him all night, and had eventually given in trying to sleep and just whacked off to the image of that guy's smile in his mind for a good five minutes, before feeling ashamed and guilty and falling asleep still puddled in his own pleasure. He had awoken still feeling the same, only slightly colder as his cum had dried on his stomach, giving him a ghostly chill he hadn't needed. He thought of him again in the shower, and while he was getting dressed, eating breakfast and on the way to school. He was hoping he'd drive past him on the way in, thinking he'd probably stay on the campus in one of the residential flats. Unfortunately, Cas had been let down and was in an even worse mood now than before he had woken up. He doubted he would get to see him today, and even though he felt ridiculous for admitting it, he had already developed a little bit of a crush on this man, and desperately wanted to see more of him. He scolded himself when he realised he was acting like a love-struck fourteen year old, crushing after somebody who barely knew he existed, and again for liking him simply because of his looks. Especially those eyes of his. Oh god, his eyes…

Cas' thoughts trailed off as the induction class started. He barely paid attention the entire two hours he was in there, randomly doodling on his notes instead of listening to the context of the course. He promised he'd pay attention tomorrow, if God would allow him to just once glimpse at that boy today…

When the lecturer called the end of class, Castiel almost ran out the doors to the cafeteria. He had agreed with himself that he would always eat at home to save the wastage of food and money but he felt that if he ate in the cafeteria where everybody else ate, there was a good chance of him meeting and talking to other people, and possibly a chance to see the boy who kept him up all night. Castiel sat at a table by himself for a while, not bothering to eat, mulling over thoughts in his head. He wasn't entirely sure what made him so attracted to Green-Eyes, as he decided he will now refer to them as, until he learned his proper name; he had his theories of course, but he wasn't ready to delve deep into them just yet. The theories made him feel awkward and upset, and ideally he'd like to talk them other with another human being as opposed to his own, stubborn mind. The sadness must have shown on Castiel's face because a moment later, a head was popping into his view and blurred his vision of the courtyard outside.

"Hey there." Castiel started as the voice broke through his own thoughts, shaking him from his fantasy and forcing him to reality. He would have been unimpressed if the person who had sat down opposite him didn't look so kind or welcoming.

"Hello." Castiel murmured, trying to force his face into a smile, even a weak one. His now mirror image face broke into a big, toothy smile which wrinkled her eyes and caused a blush to rise to her cheeks. "I thought you looked pretty lonely, sitting here all by yourself. Mind if I sit with you?" she asked politely, although her ass was already firmly in the seat opposite him.

"Not at all." He smiled wider this time, trying to show genuine pleasure of having somebody talk to him besides lecturers, neighbours and his family. He raised his eyes to hers warily, seeking warmth. Her eyes met his and he was comforted to find they were as green as Green-Eyes, with a tint of gold at the edges, of course hers were smaller and not as breath-taking, but she couldn't help that. They were layered upon with lashing of mascara, making them the main feature of her face, although not distracting from her bright, copper hair that hung in loose waves, caressing the sides of her face and flowing down her back. She was, in theory, beautiful. But she wasn't Castiel's type, and he hoped that wasn't the reason she sat down. There was a silence now as he analysed her, she did the same to him. They obviously didn't find anything offensive in each other's appeareance, they both stayed sitting down. It was Castiel who spoke first.

"What is your name? I am Castiel." He offered her a gloved hand, forgetting to take them off since getting out of the car this morning. She chucked when she saw this, raising her own hand from underneath the table and gripping it tight with his own, showing a green glove on her own hand. "Anna. It is fucking freezing in Kansas, isn't it?" her eyes gleamed with laughter; Castiel couldn't help but smile back. "Definitely. I'm from Phoenix, compared to there; this place may as well be inside a freezer for how cold it is." He mimicked a shiver and released her hand, placing it on the table between them. She did the same, still laughing. "I'm from Florida! The Goddamn Sunshine State! Tell me, why, why, why on earth did I decide _Kansas _was the best place to come for college? Fuck me, is it cold!" she rubbed her hands together, her face blushing a pleasant pink from giggling.

"You don't have to explain yourself to me. I thought Kansas was far enough away to be a fresh start, away from family… but I never thought about the sudden change in climate. It really should have been top of my list when I chose."

"THE WEATHER ISNT EVEN THAT DIFFERENT!" a voice shouted from across the canteen, obviously aiming the statement at Castiel and Anna. "YOU'LL KNOW WHEN WINTER COMES, THIS IS JUST AUTUMN, BABY!" the person less voice made both Anna and Castiel break into cackles, and Cas could admit he hadn't felt this great since his send off from home with Gabriel. "Fuck," Anna started, "if it's going to get colder I might have to swap schools. I know Kansas is supposed to be one of the best for pre-law students, but I would sacrifice a life of wealth and prestige to live in a hot place for the rest of my education!" she wiggled her eyebrows to show she was joking, but Castiel was beaming at one phrase she'd mentioned in her speech.

"You're pre-law too?" he asked, not being able to contain the smile on his face.

"Baby, yes! I was in that lecture just before, with, who was it? Professor Blackburn? God, what an ass! I didn't listen to a thing he was saying. He was spewing some spiritual crap; I think he was only subbing for the induction. The real class is after lunch." She paused for breath, continuing, "If you were in that class, please let me thank God right now for allowing me to find somebody in there who didn't look like they had a stick up their ass. I kept sighing and almost nodding off, and all these guys around me were giving me the bitch face! This one guy, Raphael-" Castiel allowed her to ramble on, feeling as though she and him had made an instant connection. He wondered if making friends was actually this easy all throughout life, and if it had been why on earth hadn't been done it sooner?! If having a friend, someone to laugh and talk with, could feel this enlightening, he suddenly felt guilty of not perusing one in his past, and realised what his father had meant when he said Castiel wasted his youth. He crushed down this feeling of sadness before it had time to grow and flourish and instead focused on Anna's rant. She concluded with a "God, he is _such _a douche!" before slumping back in her chair, beat. "Hey, if it starts to get any colder, I'm going to need a coffee. Want anything?" she began to get up but Castiel stopped her, rushing to his own feet and fishing in his wallet. "No, no, let me go. I've been sitting there too long anyway." He flashed her a smile before stalking off towards the college's own Starbucks, hearing her shout her order after him followed by a "thanks!"

Castiel lined up behind a crowd of students obviously dying for their caffeine fix, the line went down quite quickly considering. He was anxious to get back to Anna and continue their budding friendship, he liked this friend thing. Anna seemed like the sort of person he could love like a sister, she was just so funny and dramatic, but once again, definitely not his type. He didn't think that's what she was thinking anyway when she sat down, but Castiel had never had anyone come onto him anyway, so how was he to know?

He was lost in his own thoughts as usual when a gruff voice charged through them. "Aw, shit, I think I'm like, a quarter short…"

That voice, a voice so gravelly and bass, could only belong to one person. It was the voice he had conjured up in his mind when he was masturbating last night, the voice he'd heard moan and hiss and cry out his name – he was right. It had to be him! His head snapped up to the man in front, he was being served by an irritated looking worker, obviously wanting to get the line down as quickly as possible. On the counter there were two sandwiches, crisps and a soft and hot drink, and the man was scrabbling into a beaten wallet, trying to scrape enough money together for his almost-purchases. "Sorry man, can I pay you back tomorrow or…?"

"Sorry, I can't do that. If you don't have the money, put something back." The server clearly wasn't taking any shit today. So this is where Castiel seized his opportunity to repay the guy for being so unbelievably thoughtful yesterday – he pulled out five dollars and stepped right up to the front, next to the man – _breathing the same air as him _- and handed it to the cashier, flashing a dazzling smile all at the same time. "I can help you out. Keep the change," he swept the man's food into his hands and turned to him, meeting those green eyes only the first time today. His mind hadn't given them enough justice; they were simply… breath-taking. And yes, he sounded to himself a bit like a dick at the moment but he really didn't care either.

Maybe this is what having friends can do to you.

They are jostled out of the way when the queue moves; they shift over to the side, Castiel still holding onto the food. He turns to Green-Eyes, letting a smile rip across his face, handing out the food to him. He almost expects him to be angry, feel emasculated that another man has paid for his food, but no looks of anger or annoyance register across the man's face as he bores down at Castiel. Cas flinches, still expecting a sarcastic or scathing remark, but his face softens as Castiel does this, his lips drooping then picking back up again. "Thanks man, I owe you one." There it was once more – a voice that could make the Virgin Mary cum. Cas tried not to shiver, he really did, but the voice ran deep into his blood and a shudder ran up his spine.

They started to walk away together, in the direction of where Anna was sat. "You don't owe me one – consider it me repaying you back for the tissues yesterday. You pretty much saved my life." Castiel gave an awkward smile, chiding himself at how melodramatic he seemed. "I'm Castiel, by the way." they paused while the other man placed his food onto a nearby table, almost throwing it down in the attempt to squeeze Cas' hand in his own. "Dean." He said as their hands shook, Castiel cursing himself for keeping gloves on and not being able to feel Dean's skin for the first time. Dean the abruptly pulled Cas' hand up to his face, twisting it this way and that: "dude, why are you wearing gloves? It's like freaking Barbados out there!" he chuckled gruffly before letting go of his hand, almost like he realised he'd been holding onto it a second longer than necessary. He picked up his food again and they kept walking.

"Oh, you're one of _those _people." Castiel started, raising his eyebrows, "one of those people who walk around in t-shirts and jeans, when I came to college wrapped in a blanket with sleeves this morning." There was a hint of humour in his voice, and he relished the fact that Dean threw his head back and laughed out loud at his.

"Man, you're kidding. I was considering coming in naked, I was that hot. I didn't want to leave the cold shower," Castiel took a little longer to answer this time, wishing to himself that Dean _had _come to school topless, and bottomless, and imagined the lines and muscles that Dean's body would have sculptured into them…

"Cas? Are you there?" a non-gloved hand was waving in front of his face now; Castiel snapped out of his fantasy and focused his attention on the glorious face in front of him. "Oh, yes. Sorry. I'm here." They had approached Castiel's table too quickly for their liking, Anna was peering up at Dean as though he was the prize pig at a county fair. Glancing around, Castiel asked, "Want to sit with us?" and fell down into the nearest seat. It was unfortunately the side of the table with only one chair on it, so Dean had to sit beside Anna, who looked like she was drinking in his looks as much as Cas had the first time he'd saw him. They sat in awkward silence for a moment, before Anna cleared her throat.

"So, um, Cas? Did you forget our drinks?" she quipped, raising a thin eyebrow at him. Castiel blushed, burning his whole face red. Dean chuckled, lowering his own head. "I guess not. I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it… I see you got distracted." She stood up, snatching her purse and calling over her shoulder, "I'll just get them for us now!" Castiel could swear he heard her mutter "and give you two lovebirds some time alone," under her breath, but he pretended not to hear and hoped Dean hadn't either. They laughed quietly together, not talking, Dean's hands wrapped around his coffee cup. It wasn't tense; it was sort of nice, them just sitting them enjoying each other's company. Cas opened his mouth to say something when something was suddenly rushing towards their table, and in Dean's arms before Castiel could even think "cock-block".

A leggy brunette was now perched on dean's lap, giving his lips the vacuum-treatment and wrapping her slender arms around Dean's neck in a cobra-like embrace. Dean was reciprocating to the kiss, his hands holding onto her back and stroking her skin through her shirt. Castiel tried to look away, heat pooling in his stomach, not knowing what it was. But his eyes were locked on the show in front of him, watching Dean's rough, calloused hands travel down the girl's back, up again, diving into her hair and massaging the scalp and neck, then bringing them forward to cup her face. He couldn't not watch his lips as they plucked and bit and teased, watched his pink, long tongue dart delicately out of his cherub mouth and into hers, swirling and pressing and oh-my-god… Castiel wouldn't be able to sleep tonight, he could see it. Not with this image burned so harshly into his mind. A pit in his stomach dropped his heart along with it. His initial feeling of aroused was now replaced with a more complicated, stressed feeling. He could feel green flames licking his insides, his blood running cold and his temper becoming short. He snapped his teeth together and gnashed them, hands squeezing the arms of the chair. He was jealous. Not even mildly, no, insanely, desperately jealous. Jealous of this girl, the treatment she was receiving. Jealous that it was her, not Castiel, eliciting noises from Dean that he had only imagined in his thoughts.

Finally, the pull away from each other at the same time Anna approaches with two boiling coffees. She looks taken aback when she sees the girl sitting in Dean's lap, but doesn't say anything, just slides to coffee in front of Castiel and says, "um, Cas, our next class is about to start."

Castiel, thankful for the distraction, hurriedly gets up, both of them muttering a "goodbye" to Dean and his girl as they rush outside. They left so fast that Castiel abandoned his gloves on the table.

That night when he got home, Castiel couldn't get Dean off of his mind. Yes, he hadn't been able to last night – but this was different. This was almost as if Castiel had felt something between him and Dean, he had had an inkling that something might actually happen between the two of them. Alas, all of those thoughts had been quashed as soon as the brunette beauty, Anna had later informed him was named "Lisa" barrelled right into their lunch and stole Dean practically right in front of his eyes. Not that he thought of Dean as "his" but he had definitely thought there might have been _something _there. He felt worse than disappointed; to be quite honest he didn't know what he felt. He racked his brain for a time when he'd actually felt this bad and concluded that maybe he felt similar when he was twelve and Becky Johnson rejected him, but that was only fraction of what he was feeling at the moment. He moped around his house, walking aimlessly from room to room, feeling as though he'd gone through a sudden loss or breakup. He knew this wasn't the case, he knew that. So why was he feeling like that in the first place? It had been a crush, that's all. He'd only known the boy for two days for Christ's sake! And both days had been fleeting, barely there conversations and chats. Castile felt ridiculous. Like a child. But he didn't know how to stop feeling so let down and angry at Lisa who he felt had ruined his chances – but what chance did he have anyway, when Dean had a girlfriend?

He sighed to himself, nursing a cup of tea he had made a while ago, taking a sip and recoiling when it touched his lips and was cold. He stood up to make a fresh brew, padding over to his kitchen, his slippers slapping with every step on the newly inserted wooden floors. His robe was coming loose and he tightened it, not wishing to lose even half a degree of temperature from his body. He was still bunged up, deciding to make lemsip and take it to bed as opposed to tea.

As he waited for the kettle to boil, he padded around his bungalow, tightly shutting all the windows. It was a modest living accommodation from the inside, all wood and cream paint finishes, though completed with the most expensive oak and durex paint money could be. The wall hangings were all from different counties Castiel's father had travelled to – India, China, England, and Spain. There were framed pictures of the wall of his family, usually group shots of him and Gabriel and Balthazar, as children, growing up, and a picture taken just before he had left. He walked over to it now, picking it up and smiling at his own face in the photo, realising how oblivious this Castiel was to how depressed he was going to feel approximately a week later. The kettle clicked off, and he made his medicine and crawled into bed, praying for a restful night unlike the last one had been.

The rest of the week passed swiftly, as cold as ever. Castiel had had few music classes, but he never saw Dean in them. In fact, he never saw Dean at all those next few days. He didn't see him whilst he was eating lunch in the canteen with Anna, not hanging out with Lisa in the courtyard, not in the library researching books for their music assignment. Castiel wondered if he was sick – and immediately pushed the thought away. He wouldn't let himself worry about someone who wouldn't worry about him if Dean didn't seem him around the school. He had Anna now, at the minute one friend and his family was all he needed. He needed to focus on school. Already to workload had piled up sky high, and the first week wasn't even out. He was trying to juggle complicated law instructions whilst also practicing at home on his large piano (that took up a full room, by the way) for his assignment for music. Professor Pall, the music instructor, was really on his ass about handing things in before everyone else. Castiel hated that he was getting "special treatment" and singled out in the class almost every single lesson, but if it was going to help him pass he tried to convince himself it was worth it. He had a short pep talk with himself on Friday night in his bathroom mirror, instructing himself that he must work hard and meet all the deadlines with time to spare, and not focus too much on boys. He especially told himself that he wouldn't worry over Dean, whose last name he didn't even know.

His plans were going so well until he was out shopping for food on Saturday, when he rounded the corner of Wal-Mart and crashed trolley-first into another man coming out of the same aisle.

"Oh! I'm so sorry, I wasn't watching where I was going, I-" he was cut off by a surprised "Cas!" and all at once he was looking into the one and only Dean's eyes. Castiel felt his heart sink into his feet as soon as he saw green, he felt his cheeks flush pink and his palms begin to sweat. Dean was casually dressed again in a simple jeans and black fitted t-shirt that moulded to his stomach and chest kindly. He had a black leather jacket slung over his shoulders. Clearly, he was feeling the cold today.

Dean smirked when he saw Cas eyeing up the jacket, and raised his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay, I admit, today is a little colder than usual. But definitely not for scarves." He leaned forward then, giving Cas' scarf a careful tug. Castiel gasped and blushed deeper, stammering out an "M-morning, Dean."

Dean chuckled and said, "morning yourself. Hey, your scarf reminds me…" he reached into his back pocket of his jeans, pushing out a ball of fabric. "You left these behind you at lunch – y'know, on Tuesday." He threw them at Cas' chest and he caught them dutifully. He was still shell-shocked that he met Dean of all places, in a supermarket, when he was wearing old ratty jeans and a beaten up pair of dress shoes, his worst ones. And he was wearing a t-shirt for God's sake, opposed to his usual neatly pressed shirts. He didn't think he'd see anybody here, let alone Dean…

"Thanks, I wondered where these had got to," he managed to mumble out, now trying to steer his trolley away from Dean's and into the aisle behind him. He was almost done, he just needed soap powder and he'd be set…

"Wow! Where you going? Come have a coffee. Come on, my treat, seeing as you've already paid for mine once."

"You don't owe me anything Dean, I told you, and you helped me out first."

"Oh Cas, indulge me a little." Castiel melted at the way Dean said his name. It rolled off his tongue like it was meant to be there.

"Okay. Just one coffee." He agreed; together they both steered their trollies towards the café area that Wal-Mart had towards the back of the store. They were sat down with drinks within minutes, sipping delicately and warming their hands on their mugs. Dean cleared him throat, he wanted Castiel to begin speaking first. He didn't want to aggravate him or anything, maybe he wasn't a sociable guy. But Castiel began spilling words out of his mouth as though the coffee was a key to his voice box.

"I haven't seen you around in school this past week – not that I've been looking, I mean – I just meant that I hadn't seen you in class, and that's strange, are you okay? You weren't sick or anything, right?" he babbled away, not stopping for breath. He swears he caught Dean's face blushing and lightening up as he spoke, so he spoke more. And once he began, he didn't seem able to stop. Eventually, Dean raised his hand and silenced him, his belly rumbling with laughter.

"Damn, Cas, you could talk for America." He paused her to show Cas how it's actually possible to do that, took a sip of his coffee and then continued talking, "no, I wasn't sick. It was my little brother, Adam. He's come down with something and we're not quite sure what it is yet. Me and my other brother haven't been able to figure it out, but the doctor's going to visit tomorrow to tell us exactly what we can do. Me and Sam, we're pretty stumped." He ran a hand through his sticking-straight-up hair. It looked like he'd just rolled out of bed before coming here. At least Castiel knew what his morning hair looked like, now though. And he liked knowing this fact.

"I suppose, thanks for noticing though. I doubt Lisa even noticed I was gone…" he trailed off, frowning, before reaching out and taking a large gulp out of his coffee mug. Before he set it down, Castiel was away talking once more.

"I didn't notice, much, y'know. Just I only know you and Anna really now, so when I don't see you I'm one friend short. And being short on friends, that's a bad thing to be." He and Dean chortled at this, slurping their drinks. Castiel swirled his leftover coffee with a spoon, absent-mindly focusing on Dean's fingers as they drummed on the table.

"Are you Mom and Dad not able to give a diagnosis either?" he leaned forward, eager to hear Dean's answer. But Dean sat back at this, recoiling as far back from the tale as the chair would allow him.

"My Mom… My Mom's dead, to put it bluntly. I don't want to get into the Dad stuff, if you wouldn't mind, thanks. We've only just met." To take away the sting of his words, Dean added a wink to the end, continuing "maybe when we get better acquainted, I'll let you know."

Castiel spurted into his drink, trying to pull off that he meant to do that. He tapped his fingers on the table, mimicking Dean, before replying "I know what you mean. My Mom's dead too. I never really knew her, in fact." He paused, watching Dean, glad to see that Dean was looking at him in interest as to what he was saying. "She died soon after me and Gabriel was born. We're twins. Gabe liked to joke that she took one look at us when she gave birth and her heart gave out at the sight of our heavenly faces. He said she's being given the royal treatment in Heaven, producing two angels." He laughed, but it was cold. He froze suddenly, meeting Dean's eyes. "That wasn't too much information, was it?"

Dean bumped his fist on Cas' rested one on the table, he hadn't realised he'd clenched his hands. Dean had. "Not too much at all, buddy. You can tell me anything. I can swear I wouldn't breathe a word of it to anybody." He gave a reassuring smile before leaning away again. Castiel breathed a sigh of relief, relaxing.

They ordered another coffee and chatted until the café had to throw them out – it was past midnight.

The boys drove off in their own cars, Dean in an old fashion, black Chevy, Cas in his sleek convertible, he'd love to disguise it if he could. They both had a smile on their faces until they reached home.

Dean was welcomed home by the clatter and shouting of a gruff voice, one much likes his own. His head drooped when the sound reached him, as soon as he opened his car door he could pick out the muffled shouts and screeching of his father, possibly over the knocking together of bottles and pans. So, his father was finally home. How long had it been? A few weeks to say the least, perhaps a month or two. To be honest, Dean had stopped counting long ago.

It was one o'clock in the morning; Dean would like to hope that Adam and Sam were tucked up into bed right now, sleep soundly so they could focus on schoolwork tomorrow. John was going to wake them up: there was no way Dean would let that happen.

He slammed his door shut, his anger broiling up inside him already; his breath hitched and he growled, gritting his teeth together before he stormed up to the modest, old house, practically throwing the door off of its hinges in his hurry to get inside and confront the man he loathed to call his father. He had no right to give him life if this was the life he had chosen for them. Dean never usually got angry at his father anymore, he was used to John coming and going and being drunk and loud ever since he was ten – but since Adam had grown old enough to know that this wasn't right, and this wasn't how dads were supposed to react, Dean had dreaded the time he'd come home and prayed he'd stay away even longer than the last time. It had taken a long time to get Adam settled, he'd suffered nightmares and terrors from John's bruising as he was growing up – how was a child supposed to know crying wouldn't get him anywhere, when he was hungry and John couldn't feed them. "Couldn't" is incorrect. He could have, he just chose to spend his money on alcohol to dull the pain of… what? Losing Dean's mother? Dean would believe that if two years after her death, he hadn't shown up with Adam in their kitchen, claiming his mother didn't want him. Adam had John's colouring and the passion in his voice: John couldn't lie and say he wasn't his. He'd slept with other women even though he was apparently "mourning" Mom's death by drinking his life away. Dean didn't know what to believe anymore, so instead he chose not to.

Barrelling into the kitchen, Dean stood tall, pushing his shoulders back. He cocked his chin in John's direction. Dean's father was on all fours, dressed in filthy jeans and a sticky t-shirt, scrambling on the floor for the bottle of gin that had rolled under the counter. Dean would have to hide that more carefully next time.

The pots, pans and plates were strewed around the open kitchen space, smashed and dented, a cupboard door hanging off and several tea-towels thrown around the room in disarray. Dean's father had obviously been on a determined search for alcohol, unfortunately, he'd been successful.

He sat now on his hind legs like an animal, both hands clasped around the bottle, drinking greedily into his mouth as if he were a starving baby. His hair was long and matted to his face; he smelt disgusting. A waft of body odour hit Dean like a brick wall; he recoiled and tried to breathe through his mouth as he regarded his father. Eventually, he spoke.

"Dad." John turned sharply at Dean's voice, much like his own.

"Son!" He called, throwing his arms in the air, letting the gin wash over him as if it were holy water. "I see you hid the alcohol-" he hiccupped "-not v-very well though. I still found it." He shook the bottle again, pouring it into his mouth from up a height. Dean didn't budge, though he crossed his arms whilst his father was speaking to him.

"Dad. I want you to get out." He advanced towards John, leaning his face in close, trying not to choke on the smell, "I want you to get out, _now._" He grimaced and growled directly into John's face; apparently John took much delight in this as he threw back his head and chortled with laughter.

"Ha! As if my own son is telling _me, me, _what to do! You watch your lip boy, or you'll be living without it." He took a heart-halved swing at Dean's face and sighed when he missed, simply draining the bottle and reaching into the cupboard for some more. Whilst his back was turned, Dean lunged.

Dean wrapped two strong hands around his dad's forearms and heaved him to his feet. He avoided thinking about what his hands were touching; his dad was wet and smelling like a sewer. God knows where he's been living these two months. John's feet dangled an inch above the ground and he stared down at Dean, flashes of anger registering across his face. He looked worse than angry, but Dean couldn't tell what it was beneath the beard that was steadily forming on his chin, concealing most of his face. "What do you think you're doing?" John hissed, spittle flying through his clenched teeth. It rained on Dean's face, but at that moment, he didn't care.

"Getting you the fuck out of here, _dad._" He snarled back, turning on his heel and struggling towards the door. When they were almost through the kitchen door, John resisted out of Dean's grip and came crashing to the floor, momentarily stunned before obviously recovering quickly, throwing himself around Dean's legs and dragging him to the floor. The two scrapped at each other, Dean repeatedly punching the old man's head and chest, trying to knock him down, weaken him so he could get him out. John had other ideas. He was old now and disgusting yes, but he was still a fighter, Dean had got that from him. He held back Dean's hands and he head-butted him in the stomach, biting his arms and eventually, wrapping his muddy, diseased hands around Dean's neck. Dean could feel him squeezing vital parts of his body, choking off the air supply. His vision was going blurry and he was panting for breath. Dean found his legs almost a fraction too late and kicked upwards with all his might – his foot hit John straight in his groin, sending his reeling, collapsing onto the floor. He spluttered, curling up into the foetal position. Dean wasted no time jumping to his feet and kicking him out the front door, sending him rolling face-first down their wooden steps. When John hit the bottom he vomited profusely, just as a siren sounded and flashing lights arrived in the distance.

Neighbours were starting to appear from their homes, clutching at their robes and nightclothes, peaking into the darkness at some sort of activity. Some ran out with bats and sauce-pans, Dean couldn't help but laugh. There was no way they could help Dean against John, he was far too determined and feisty to give in, unless a swift kick to the balls sent him flying. Dean smirked to himself as two policemen rounded the corner, pulling up sharply outside Dean's house and seizing John underneath his shoulders. Evidently, they smelled the alcohol on his breath and his clothes and took in his scruffy demeanour and instantly decided he was why there was a phone call. An officer approached the house and asked Dean calmly, "Sir, do you know this man?" to which Dean shook his head and replied, "Never seen him before in my life."

Cas' evening was less dramatic than Deans. He arrived home with a cheery smile on his face, thinking about what a good time he'd had with Dean. Although he knew Dean was off-limits for him, he had a girlfriend; he couldn't help but feel slightly elevated that he had another friend to add to his list of successes since coming to Kansas. He practically danced up the steps into his bungalow, turning the lights on with a flourished click of his fingers and tap-dancing it towards the kitchen. He clicked the kettle on, still waving around his house as if he was in a dream world. He didn't know why he felt so good, but he had a sneaking suspicion it had to do with a certain gorgeous someone, who bought him coffee and lightly brushed his hand across the table, even if it was accidental.

The kettle whistled, Cas whistled with it as he poured the steaming water into one of his favourite green mugs, letting the tea leaves soak before he approached the fridge. However, this is where it all went wrong. His smile faltered, his mood drooped, his heart rate slowed right down and he returned to padding around the kitchen as opposed to dancing.

He was out of milk.

Dean and Cas ate lunch together every day after that Saturday. Only at school of course, Dean was often at work on Saturdays and Sundays and Castiel liked to catch up on his school work. They ate lunch with Anna, only after Castiel had managed to secretly convince her that they were not lovers and there would be no footsie at the table. Whether or not Anna believed them was unsure, but Castiel didn't want Dean to notice her giving sly glances to the two of them when they ate in random silent moments. They were only silent really when Anna had something in her mouth.

Sometimes, Lisa joined them, and oh how Castiel _loved _those days. To see Dean snuggled up with somebody else, running his hands over her body the way he wished Dean would do to his? An absolute delight to see, really it was.

He always went to class a little flustered when this happened, his cheeks burned red and his glasses steamed up, his hair a little bit more tugged with. It didn't make him feel good, really.

A few weeks had passed when the October chill hit and students were ready for their well-earned break from school, ready to be cozied up in their beds as opposed to listening in lecturers and partying every single night. Only one of these really applied to Cas, but nevertheless, he was excited for his break. He needed sleep, desperately. These early mornings were killing him, and not even the soft voice of Elvis could coax him awake in the morning anymore.

The last Friday before they were due to break up for two weeks of extended sleep time and bliss, however, Professor Pall had decided that the holiday would be an excellent time for the class to create a musical piece that had to run for at least three minutes and include vocals and the minimum of two instruments. He didn't care that this was "down-time" and a chance to escape university pressure – he wanted it done and completed by the time they all got back. A passer-by could have easily heard the frustrated groans that elicited from the whole class as soon as he had left the room – no doubt he heard it himself too.

Castiel's feeling of elevation was dumped all over on. He could accomplish this task easily enough, but the fact was he just didn't _want to_. He wanted to spend the holidays with Dean and Anna, he'd even put up with Lisa if it meant Dean could come out more. He wanted them to show him around town, finally, and to take him to his first ever club and let him get drunk – illegally – for his first time ever, too. Now, it looked like that wasn't going to happen. Castiel glanced over at Dean in class, seeing him looking as enthralled as he usually does whenever he sits in music. He actually didn't look like he minded about the assignment; in fact he looked positively buzzed about it. Castiel knew Dean could play the piano and the guitar like a pro, and he sang like he was destined to be the lead of a rock band, so he wasn't really surprised that Dean didn't care about doing the work. From what he had told Castiel over their lunch meetings before Anna or Lisa had a chance to crash in on them, he had said that music was his life and pretty much all he wanted in life. Castiel always smiled when Dean admitted something like this, he thought it something special that he didn't talk about his passion for music whenever Lisa was around, perhaps he didn't want her to know. Maybe it was just a secret between him and Castiel. Castiel hoped this was true.

They burst out of class, walking close together to protect themselves against the harsh wind; Castiel was wearing more layers than usual, Dean only had his leather jacket on over his usual attire. They trudged towards their cars that they always parked together subconsciously, and leaned back against their respective hoods as their chatted.

"Sorry man, I can't stay talking long today. Adam and Sam are about to get home from school, I need to go and cook them some grub before they raid the cupboards and attempt to do something for themselves – and believe me, you didn't want to be there the last time that happened." Dean shuddered dramatically at the thought, Castiel laughed along with him.

"Don't worry about it. I need to get home to start working on this piece-"

"Already? Damn, Cas, it's the first day of the holidays. Relax, chill a little. Have a drink." He cackled at Cas' face when he said this, he knew for a fact Cas had never touched a drink and always started his work immediately. He was only kidding him on.

"Yes, already! I need to catch up on my piano, I'm falling quite far behind in it – I keep forgetting chords and my fingers refuse to co-operate with what I want them to do." he frowned, remembering the last time he had tried to play and how his fingers had simply frozen and he couldn't grasp the next note. He hadn't gone back to it since, hopping he could focus on his singing and viola instead, especially keeping his focus on his law work. Alas, it seemed he needed this piano piece desperately for this assignment.

"Cas, if you're struggling with the piano you know I could always help you out…" Dean didn't want to tell Cas that he hadn't played on a proper piano in ages, due to the fact his had to be sold to make payments for food for Sam and Adam. Adam still wasn't feeling all up to himself, and he blamed it on his lack of nutrious food. "If you didn't mind me coming over of course. I don't have a real one, you see." He shrugged half-heartedly, not letting loose that he actually didn't even have a keyboard to practice on. His fingers were itching to play again; it simply wasn't the same on guitar strings.

"I suppose… we could arrange something." Castiel smiled at him, trying to push a niggling feeling of warmth out of his heart. Dean was only his friend; he had come to terms with that.

"Next week okay? I need to stick around with Adam and Sam some more, I promised I'd take them out this holiday. I've got work and Lisa too." He pulled a face when he said the last sentence, and Cas couldn't help but feel happy when he did. He didn't know if Dean had meant to include Lisa in the look, but he had convinced himself he did.

"That's no problem. Next Fridays, 2pm?"

"I'll still be sleeping! 4pm?"

"Yeah, sure. See you then. I hope Adam recovers soon, Dean." They both walked around to their cars and Dean waved as he pulled away. Castiel looked down into his hands and sighed; only this time it was a sigh of relief. He was sure it would turn into nerves by this time next week but for now he didn't care. Dean Winchester was coming to his bungalow in a week to help him play piano – he had to get ready, right now.

**Friday 25th, October 2013**

It was 3.57pm and Castiel was pacing around his home. He was trying to appear casual, he wore his worst jeans and his best t-shirt, hoping the two would cancel out and create an oh-Dean-you're-here-I-didn't-even-notice look. He was barefoot, his feet made padding sounds whenever they smacked against the wooden floor whenever he paced too fast out of worry. He had tugged a brush through his hair in an attempt to get it to calm down but to no avail – it stood straight up in all directions and was reluctant to back down to Castiel's coaxing.

A loud knock sounded at exactly 3.59pm, Castiel jumped so much his glasses almost dropped from his nose. He was early! Castiel quickly half-walked, half-ran to the front door, throwing it open after he had readjusted his glasses to sit straight on his face.

Dean stood, standing tall in the door frame, his broad shoulders almost brushing the sides. He was still wearing his weather beaten leather jacket, thrown over a simple t-shirt and jeans. He didn't look like he'd made an effort, but if Castiel knew the amount of time it had taken Dean to choose an outfit this morning; he'd be over the moon. In one hand Dean held the keys to his car, but in the other was a white plastic bag that was spilling out the most succulent smells Cas had tasted since moving to Kansas.

"Is that Chinese food?" he asked, welcoming Dean into his home by stepping aside. Dean grinned and pushed past him, his clothed arm rubbing across Cas' chest delightfully as he walked past him. Not needing to be pointed in the direction of the kitchen, Dean found his way in and plonked the food on the table whilst Castiel hurried behind, pulling out plates from secret cupboards.

"I thought we could eat before we play – y'know, so we won't get hungry in the middle of playing and have to stop." Dean grinned again as he took a bite out of a chicken ball smothered in sweet and sour sauce. "I didn't know what you liked so I sort of just brought everything I do – I hope that's okay."

"It's fine! Thanks, Dean." Cas mimicked Dean and took a slow bite into the chicken ball. Spices erupted over his tongue and he heard himself groaning in absolute pleasure. "Dean, this is amazing." He moaned, taking a quick bite and devouring the chicken in an instant.

Dean didn't answer. His eyes followed Cas' hands as they slowly wrapped around another piece of chicken, relishing his animalistic nature as he sunk his teeth into the batter. His teeth were pearly and sharp; Dean couldn't help but imagine those teeth sinking into the skin of his neck, making Dean see stars from pain and pleasure. He could see Castiel being the kind of man who was a beast in the bedroom. He wouldn't know it, but he would be. He would grab Dean with those long, spinney fingers of his and dig them into his arms, pulling Dean in for a ravishing kiss. He'd tease; let their lips just about to be pressed together, and then smile and him until he heard Dean beg for it. Then he'd-

"Dean? Earth to Dean? You haven't touched your food, are you going to eat that?" Cas' voice broke through Dean's mind, clearing up the images that were so devilishly implanted in there. What was Dean thinking?! He had Lisa! Lisa, who was pretty, smart and talented and… aw hell, who was Dean kidding. She was a total fluke in the bedroom department. She lay around and expected him to do all the work, giving him weak moans as motivation whenever he stopped. Dean was giving her some of his best moves, really earth shattering moves that usually made a girl arch and scream his name… but not Lisa. Lisa looked bored most of the time, disinterested in their sex life as much as his conversations with her. But, he had been with Lisa for so long, since high school, and he didn't want to throw all that away… did he?

He shook the thoughts from his head and grunted to Cas, who was looking at him with a worried expression. He grabbed a container of rice and began shovelling it into his mouth, careful not to look at Cas as he wrapped his tongue around the fork he now used, how his hands stroked and picked at food, oh god…

Dean put down his fork suddenly, anxious to start playing. "Let's get to it, eh? No point wasting time!" he was off his feet and exploring Castiel's bungalow like he was a toddler before Cas could finish his bite of food. "Hey! Wait up!" Cas scrambled along the corridor after him, pushing past him into the spare bedroom that only held a large grand piano in the centre of it.

They both drew up short in front of it. Castiel hadn't been in here for a few weeks, he'd forgotten the majestic nature of the black piano, it stretched for days and its lid was held open in a welcoming gesture to come play. Dean closed his mouth quickly aware that he was gaping, his feet starting off towards the piano's bench. He slid evenly onto it, turning to Cas and patting the seat beside him. "Come on! How else am I gonna teach you?" Castiel gulped. Oh God. Sitting next to Dean in a tight space, pressing intimately close together… he hadn't thought about this. "Dean, we should-I think I'm-" he never managed to finish his sentence, as Dean patted the bench a little firmer this time, demanding Cas sit his ass down right now. Castiel obliged, sliding up close to Dean. Cas could feel Dean's heat radiating off him, he struggled to not snuggle up against him just hot feel how hot he really was.

Dean coughed, blowing Cas right out of his daydreams. He was here to play piano. Nothing else. Castiel, don't you dare think about the gorgeous man sitting next to you. Or how close his hands are to your legs. Or… Castiel scolded himself internally, a scowl etching across his face. Dean eyed him nervously asking, "are you okay, man?"

"Yes! Fine. Let's start playing."

Dean cleared his throat again and softly placed his hands on the keys, barely brushing them. He signalled Castiel to do the same, and Cas positioned his fingers alongside Dean's. "Okay, so I'll show you a few simple chords and you just copy me. You know this already, this will just help you get your confidence back…" with this, Dean moved Castiel's fingers aside with a casual flick, sweeping his hands across the keys in a tune Cas knew quite well. It was the first one he had been taught to play by him father, when he was quite young and Balthazar hadn't lived with them.

"I love this song." Castiel said tenderly, looking down as Dean's hand played the final part of the tune. He had watched his fingers with every press and push he made; although he knew which keys to press he didn't want to take over from Dean. He was admiring the way Dean could play so beautifully, so unabashed. It was pure and innocent, the way Dean played.

"It is?" Dean smiled, still playing. His eyes met Castiel's, not needing to see the keys. The tune still played, calming Cas' nerves that had rocketed sky high when he'd sat with Dean on that bench. Unconsciously, they'd inched closer to each other; their knees knocked clumsily and their forearms bumped each other. They didn't notice, or if they did, didn't mind. Dean paused; Castiel tilted his head in a confused way to look at Dean, "why did you stop?"

He could almost see a blush beginning to rise in Dean's cheeks, but he didn't wish to think anything of it. Dean had Lisa. He had to stop thinking of Dean as anything more than a friend – a million of these thoughts were racing through his mind injunction with this, but there was still a tiny voice that bellowed out "KISS HIM KISS HIM KISS HIM" fortunately for Dean, Castiel chose to squash that voice down.

"I, erm – if it's your favourite, do you know the lyrics?"

"Of course I do."

"Sing with me, then."

Castiel started. "_Sing _with you?"

"Sing along!"

"Why?!"

"Please." Castiel couldn't resist Dean's deep shrubs of green eyes boring into his; they almost drooped in a puppy-dog expression, perking up as soon as Cas' eyes flicked away and back in defeat. Dean raised his fingers again and repeated the tune, from the start. It had a short intro, but that was why Cas loved it best.

"_I found my thrill, on Blueberry Hill,_

_On Blueberry Hill, I found you,_

_The moon stood still, on Blueberry Hill,_

_And lingered until my dreams come true." _

The piano keys pressed evenly, never missing a beat. The tune became slower the longer Castiel kept singing, his voice melancholy and sweet, oozing like honey out of his mouth; Dean was an addict to it. He craved to hear more of the sugar drizzled from between Cas' lips, so he kept playing. He played until the end of the song, and then he started again. The words had never sounded so sincere pouring out of anybody's mouth before. Castiel had his eyes closed, his lips parted with his head tilted towards Dean so he could catch every whisper of song he breathed. Dean almost stopping breathing then, wanting to let Cas do it for him. He sounded so beautiful. The music stopped playing as Dean's hands haltered over the piano, froze in mid-air as he dimly watched Cas continue singing the lyrics to the song even though there was no music to accompany it. When he'd finished, Cas peeked one eye open to Dean's own wide-eyed expression, red rising in his face but not breaking his eye contact. "You said you'd sing with me."

"I said nothing of the sort, actually." Dean smirked, knowing his plan had worked. He'd always guessed Castiel would have a singing voice as sweet as pie with a deep husk of a normal speaking voice.

"Play again and sing with me." Castiel closed both of his eyes again, but opened them fully when after a few seconds there were still no chords. "What's the matter, Dean?" Dean's face was only inches away from his own. Castiel was so close he could see the pores that were open on his face; see each individual curvature of his eyebrow hair. His eyes whipped over his face, lingering last on the pair of rose-tinted lips that were parted slightly, like Castiel's. Almost like they were begging to be kissed. Castiel's heart beat rapidly, he felt his palms begin to sweat. What was happening? Are they going to kiss? Cas could feel his heart beat hard enough to burst from his chest, though he began praying that wouldn't happen, lest it ruin the mood. He closed his eyes, leaned forward into Dean…

"This is supposed to be _your _piano lesson. So, you play, I'll sing." Castiel's eyes ripped open. Dean was still looking at him, but he'd shrunk away slightly. He was biting nervously on the edge of his lip and now he broke eye contact. "How about that?" he asked, removing his hands completely to curl them up in his lap.

"Fine with me." Castiel breathed. He placed his hands on the piano and began to play. After a while, Dean joined in, his voice a deep bass, vibrations sprung around the room simply from the rumbling of his chest to the lyrics.

When they'd had enough of playing, having played other of Castiel's favourites and Dean showing him a rock and roll outtake on the piano, they retired to the kitchen to warm up the rest of the Chinese and drink flat Coke from the bottle. Opposite each other, they ate in silence until the meal was over for the second time, Castiel wiping his mouth on the tea-towel he'd laid out beside them. Tapping his fork on the table, Dean broke the silence.

"So, Elvis Presley." He quipped an eyebrow. "What's that about?"

Castiel paused, dabbing at his mouth again before speaking, "my father used to play it around the house when I was a child. Especially during the anniversary of my mother's absence. He said Elvis brought life back into the house." He smirked, reaching his own hand across to take the fork from Dean's hand. "This is ironic seeing as he died of a heart attack on a toilet."

"Eating a cheeseburger." Dean ended his sentence, jabbing the prongs of the fork into Castiel's hand lightly. "He sounds like my kind of man."

"Oh?" Castiel enquired. He prepared to grab the fork; Dean just pricked him one more time.

"Yeah – I mean, y'know, the cheeseburger thing. At least he died happy."

"Hmm, yeah, but I think I'd rather die happy in my sleep that letting someone find me snacking on a cheeseburger whilst taking a shit." Dean laughed when Castiel swore, it sounded like a foreign word upon his virgin lips.

Dean pointed the fork he now gripped tightly to a framed picture on the wall, the only one that wasn't of family. "Liked him so much you framed his record?"

Castiel blushed scarlet, hurrying to tidy their plates and messes up. Anything that will turn his face away from Dean. "I, um, I thought it went with the room nice."

Castiel heard Dean chuckling behind his back, so he darted away quickly, as far as he could make it to cool himself down. "Now Cas, I'm no interior decorator, but I think for something to go with the room… it needs to match the colour scheme, even _slightly._" He chuckled louder, noticing the tips of Cas' ears turning a charming shade. While Cas was washing their dishes, Dean snuck up behind him, humming an old Elvis tune, the only one he knew besides the one he played on the piano. He stood behind Castiel, ducking his head so he couldn't be seen in the reflective surface of Cas' tiles. He took the fork he held and lightly prodded the back of Castiel's neck with it, hoping to elicit some more delicious swearing pouring from those lips.

And he wasn't displeased.

"Fuck! Agh! Dean!" Castiel whipped around, surprised to come face to face with Dean, their foreheads colliding in the commotion. "Shit, ow! My head, my neck!"

"Dammit Cas, you weren't supposed to hurt me back!"

"SELF DEFENCE," he paused before barely whispering the words "asshole." Dean gaped, throwing the fork into the sink Castiel was towering in front of. "Oh, asshole is that right?" he stepped right into Castiel's personal space, noting that Cas didn't once flinch or attempt to step back. He rested his head on Castiel's in what was meant to be a threatening way, but didn't feel that way. he steeled his eyes and glared into Castiel's, that he was sure were attempting to be mean and aggressive. Only on Castiel, they appeared so damn cute. Castiel crossed his arms in front of his chest, his face smoothing out into his neutral expression. "I called you an asshole. You jabbed me with a fork." His macho speech would have been a lot more manly if he hadn't tagged onto the end, "_and it huuuurt!_" Dean tried his best not to laugh, he really, really did. however, he couldn't help himself as laugher spilled out of his chest, rumbling in his throat until he couldn't stop himself, he broke down into fits of laughter after a mere moment of being underneath Castiel's "hard" expression. He broke away from Cas, resting his hand on his shoulder and shaking it. Cas then gave in too, his own face splitting into a huge grin as he clapped Dean's arm with his own. He was so happy that Dean laughed. Standing so close to him, their foreheads touching… Castiel had to restrain himself from cupping the side of Dean's face and pulling him flush against his lips. His innocent lips, never touched my anyone, pleaded to be caressed and brutalised by Dean's lips, his tongue, his teeth. Most of all he wanted to take his own lips and trail them down the slope of Dean's neck, sweeping across the collarbone, biting just at the…

Ripping a hole in his fantasy was the image of Dean in front of him, answering his blaring phone from his jeans pocket. Castiel blinked, his daydreams dissolved in his mind. He observed as Dean ran his hand through his hair, tugging at it lightly – he bit back a growl that threatened to escape the back of his throat as he imagined Dean doing that to him. Quickly, Cas tried to expel the thoughts from his mind, looking sharply downwards at himself and noticing his arousal beginning to show. "Fuck." he muttered it so that Dean wouldn't mock him, but he doubt Dean could hear him anyway. He was animatedly talking on the phone to someone, getting more agitated by the minute. He looked at Castiel apologetically, and Cas only smiled sheepishly in response, attempting to calculate difficult maths equations in his head to move his mind elsewhere. Anywhere else that didn't involve a scenario where Dean removed his pants.

"67 multiplied by pi divided by 78-"

"Castiel?"

"Ughh... Yeah?" Castiel registered Dean's expression: he looked pained, distressed. Most of all he looked like he needed a hug. Honestly, Castiel had never embraced anybody outside his family before, so he just waited until Dean finished what he had to tell him. Castiel was worried for him. His whole body screamed that there was an issue, a bad issue, it left a sour taste in Cas' mouth and he wasn't sure how he could help with it. "What's wrong?"

The answer was something far less complicated than what Castiel had been thinking; he let out an audible sound of relief, which Dean looked at his quizzically at. "Lisa wants to see me. Pronto. Been bitching about how I've been skirting plans and cancelling on her." He lowered his eyes to the floor. "I haven't meant to, but Sammy and Adam…"

"Sam and Adam need you around a lot. I understand." He forced himself to continue with his next train of thought. "Isn't it about time you told Lisa about Sam and Adam? She should know, so she'd stop bitching so much. Then maybe you'd be happy."

"Why did you sigh before?"

"I thought it would be something serious – not that this isn't serious, this is deadly – I thought it might be a terrible call about Sam or Adam needing assistance, maybe Sam fell out of another tree or Adam threw up. I'm just really glad it wasn't. I'm really glad it was your gorgeous, bitchy girlfriend." Castiel didn't know how much of what he said was completely true. He'd rather, in fact, that nobody had called, and let him go on imaging Dean and himself.

The crinkles around Dean's eyes creased as he smiled at Castiel. Damn, that boy really knew how to get to him; he almost didn't want to leave. But if he didn't go and meet with Lisa… he didn't want to think about the consequences. He had contemplating ending it many times, but it just didn't seem worth it, they'd been together since Middle School. And Dean wasn't prepared to throw anything away that he'd invested so much time into. He wouldn't turn into his father.

"Anyway… I need to go. We'll meet soon to go over some more piano lessons, okay?" he turned on his heel and stalked towards the door, lingering before turning back to Castiel with intent. "Hey, Lisa said there's a Halloween party coming up on the 31st in her sorority. Pretty much everybody is going to be there… do you think, you'd want to come too?" he raked his hand through the back of his hair, blushing as he stared down at the floor. "I mean, if you're not busy. You can bring Anna too, if you want, so you won't be alone if Lisa doesn't leave me alone for a goddamned second…" he trailed off, searching for Castiel to save him and stop him from rambling on some more. Although Castiel could listen to him ramble for hours, he decided to step in so he could leave and perhaps save him from Lisa biting his head off. "I'd love to, Dean. I'll ask Anna if she's up for it, too. It'll be great fun." He forced a smile at the image of Dean and Lisa cuddled up in a corner together in matching costumes at this party. He then imagined himself stuck in another corner with Anna while she tried to pick up anything that moved so she wouldn't have a boring night after Cas evidently left early. He couldn't help but repel the thought, but now he'd agreed to it. And Dean looked in lighter spirits since he'd said yes.

"Great. I'll see you there then? We can do lessons after it – I'll text you the address. Don't forget a costume!" he called as he slammed the door shut behind him, jogging away from Castiel's house and climbing into his baby. As he rumbled the engine of the car, he pictures Castiel dressed up as priest, a choirboy, and angel. He couldn't help but envision him in costumes that would totally suit his character – and then ruin him when Dean tore off the chaste clothing with his teeth. He laughed to himself, reminding himself that perhaps he'd have to drop a present off at Castiel's door before the party…

**Halloween 2013**

Castiel tugged at the collar of his costume in front of the mirror, trying to get more breathing room. For some ungodly reason, Castiel had opened the door this morning to a neatly wrapped package sitting on his doorstop; it had no address and no indication for what it was, so Cas was totally oblivious to what was inside it when he ripped into it. Alas, he'd almost wished he'd left it on the front step and ignored it now. Nevertheless, he was now donned in it and ready to attend his first party of his lifetime.

He turned his back on the mirror to take a glimpse at the back of his outfit – he could barely see through the gleaming white feathers that stuck out of his back, wiggling whenever he rolled even one muscle. He cursed Dean – for it was obviously Dean who gave him this, who else would be such a big dick – for presenting him with this, even though Dean had been right and Castiel hadn't actually had another costume for tonight. Castiel combed a hand through his hair, which was encrusted with glitter, by the way, trying to make it submit into a more angelic style. Dressed in a white robe, he looked pink and cheery, like a baby at Christmastime; he didn't like it. He wanted his comfortable, dressy shirts and nice worn-in jeans. He did not want to be wearing a dress at the very first party he'd ever been too. He'd look ridiculous.

He was about to pull it all off when he pictured Dean's face when he rocked up to the party in it – beaming, laughing. Looking absolutely ecstatic that Castiel had chosen to wear what Dean had picked out for him. Castiel knew he couldn't change now anyway –Anna would almost be here to get a lift. Her car had "mysteriously" given out, only one day before the party – meaning she couldn't drive herself there so oh! She could drink! Cas had rolled his eyes when he heard her excuse, but laughed it off anyway. He wanted to be fully alert for this party, observe the people, the activities, and at the next party he'd drink, and be exactly like the people he'd observe tonight were. He wouldn't stick out like a sore thumb. He was determined of this.

The doorbell sounded, signalling Anna. Castiel didn't know why she bothered with the bell, as she barged in anyway, running straight for the bedroom where she knew Cas would be lurking. She saw him before he saw her.

"Oh my _god_**! **Cas! You look _adorable!_" she rushed forward to hug him, but settled for pinching his cheeks instead when she didn't want to damage his wing. She herself was dressed up as Cat woman, directly down to the leather boots. Yowza. The boys were definitely going to be falling all over her tonight.

"I'm not supposed to look adorable. I am eighteen years old! I'm supposed to be sexy." He twisted each way before the mirror, pouting at his expression. Who was he kidding; he looked more like twelve than eighteen. And nobody, _nobody, _could look sexy in a dress. With perhaps the exception of Dean Winchester.

"Well, that's tough luck. Because you look adorable." She grabbed his arm and dragged him out the door, grabbing his keys from his hanging hook and throwing him outside. "Now c'mon! It's already half nine, the party will just about be in full swing. We have to go. Like, now." Within minutes they were in Cas' car and speeding towards a party over an hour away, Cas' wings all the time poking him in the back of the head and spraying glitter over the interior.

They arrived just shy of eleven. Pulling up half a mile away, they could begin to hear the faint thrumming of bass pulsing through the air, the sound of screams and high-pitched yelling swarming around them. The party spanned for yards, too many people spilled out of the windows and doors to be contained. "Oh. My. God!" Anna turned to Castiel and grinned her trademark beam, tugging on Castiel's arm for him to drive faster, to get them there quicker. They probably could have just walked and been in on the party outskirts within minutes, but Anna being Anna wanted to be at the main attraction – in the sorority house party room. Castiel didn't question her, simply drove on and on until he managed to squeeze his car into the first available space he saw. In a flash she was out, running up to the front door yelling for him over her shoulder.

Cas needed to prep himself. Looking in the mirror, he took his glasses off and slowly polished those, letting Anna run off alone. She could manage herself, he thought. He couldn't. He replaced them, his eyes readjusting to a sight without glitter for the first time in two hours almost. Castiel observed himself in the mirror now, rubbing his fingers under his sallow eyes and running his palms across his cheeks to bring life into them. His hands were shaking and his brow and upper lip sweated already. His breaths were shallow and he blinked rapidly behind his glasses. He was not ready to do this. No way.

He'd drank four espressos just to be able to stay up later than midnight, wore an outfit Dean had left outside his door for this party. He couldn't let himself down by turning around and coming home – more importantly, he couldn't let Dean down. "You can do this. Castiel James Novak, you can do this. Go and find Anna, find Dean, go have fun. Dance to shitty music. Just _get out of your car_." His stern voice must have scared him, because he was out within minutes and striding up to the house, his wings bobbing behind him. He approached the front door and readjusted his halo before throwing it open wide and stepping into musk and darkness.

The air hit in smack in the face. The cloying scent of perfume and body odour overpowered him, rushing for the fresh air outside. A few people pushed past him, giggling. Castiel couldn't tell if they were male or female. Regardless, they were clearly intoxicated. Castiel took a step further into the corridor, turning into a wide, open room. At least, it would have been wide and open had there not been a thousand sweaty bodies shoved in it, gyrating and grinding against each other to the thrumming beat of bass. Castiel wondered for a moment how he was going to get amongst those people and find Anna; it hardly looked like there was space to squeeze a shadow in there. Cas didn't need much longer to consider this, as more people barged through the open door behind him and pushed him in a scrum into the horde of people; he ended up pressed against two girls dressed as slutty nurses, shaking and rubbing themselves against him in a manner of ways. Arms encircled Castiel's waist and arms behind wrapped around his neck and suddenly he was trapped with no way of escaping. Ideally, this would have been any other hormonal teenage boy's fantasy, but definitely not Castiel's. He struggled for a second against their restraints much to their annoyance which they expressed through whines and moans in his ear. Whispers of "where you going, baby?" and "aw baby, not yet!" floated near his ear, but it was too hot, too much. Naked skin rubbed across him, goose bumps shooting up in surprise. He should have drunk more than espresso before coming here – he wasn't ready. Castiel gulped, realising that being intoxicated too may have had an impact on his enjoyment – he may have actually had some. He grappled with the thought of lightly harming the girls to get out of their grip but decided against it when he surveyed the amount of muscular men in the room, ready to jump to any girl's defence that may succeed them in getting in someone's pants tonight. Castiel was disgusted. He recoiled away, still searching over the sea of faces and backcombed hair for a way out, maybe a toilet, a fridge of alcohol. Then, he saw it. His miracle. Castiel's eyes met Dean's, towering over the disinteresting faces to instantly lock onto the brightest sight in the room… Dean's eyes. Castiel was sure that it may have been the reflection from the mirror in his eyes making them shine so bright, but right now he didn't really care and just needed Dean to see that he was in trouble and needed out. Now.

Castiel felt faint and lightheaded. The heat was making his blood boil under his skin and he hadn't even touched a drink. He needed water. He needed air. He needed for the girl in front of him to stop trying to give him a boner while he was trying to turn his hips _away _from her. "Help me." Cas mouthed to Dean, who nodded curtly, setting his beer aside on a table before evenly cutting through girls and boys alike clinging to him and his jacket. He reached Castiel in a matter of seconds, swiftly slotting his own arms around Cas' shoulders and pulling him in tightly under his arm. The girl in front didn't even notice him leaving – another guy decided to test his chances and slotted into Cas' place. Dean moved people aside with his eyes and his jaw, set into a firm expression that dared anybody to mess with him. Fortunately, nobody did and they broke through into the kitchen, Dean still clutching Castiel as if he were a puppy on a leash.

"Oh God, thank you so much. I feel like I'm going to pass out."

"Cas, have you even had a drink yet?"

"No, but it is so hot in there." Dean chuckled, pressing his palms into his eyes and sucking in his cheeks to stop from laughing too hard, he didn't want Cas to feel even worse than he already did. "Hey, let's get you outside buddy. The air will do you good." Together, they shoulder marched themselves to the back door, weaving themselves between groping couples and hysterical wannabes. The air hit Castiel smack in the face, he gulped it down in huge lungful's, gasping and choking on it in an attempt to calm himself down. Dean patted him on the back in reassurance, "hey, hey, c'mon Cas, you're okay," he rubbed smoothing circles in Cas' back as he heaved and breathed, closing his eyes. He felt amazingly embarrassed. His first ever real party and he practically have a panic attack in the first five minutes of being here. How cool. Really going to win you some friends, Cas. He scolded himself, a look of distress crossing over his face. Eventually, his heart rate returned to normal and he turned to Dean, trying to smile. "I feel much better now."

"Are you sure? We don't have to go back in if you don't want to." Dean's face was etched with concern, peering down at Cas like he was his brother. Cas imagined if this was what Dean was like at home, with his brothers. Keeping them safe.

"I'm fine, honestly. Anyway, Anna wouldn't let me live if I didn't stick around for at least half an hour." He grinned then, imagining a furious redhead after his head. Dean must have thought it amusing too, because he joined in. there was silence after this, the only sound was the vibrations under their feet. "I don't even know why I'm here." Dean murmured out of the blue, so quietly Cas had to lean in to listen to him. He kicked the ground, toying with the dirt that showed up. "Lisa told me to come. I've been here since it started and I haven't seen her anywhere." He frowned, carding his hand through his hair, gripping it tight at the back. "and I know, it's a big party. But she should have been at least in the house when I came – y'know?" he sighed. "I feel like she's avoiding me."

"Maybe she is," immediately, Castiel realised what an idiotic thing he'd just said. He wished he could grab his words before they were swallowed into Dean's brain, choke them back down his throat. Thankfully, Dean didn't seem to care that Cas had basically insulted him. "Yeah, she probably is. I don't know what's up with her lately, she just-" Dean's speech was cut off by the arrival of Anna, running quickly up the lawn, laughing as she stumbled. She saw Cas and Dean outside and stopped dead, before running straight towards them and grabbing Castiel by the arm. "Why are you out h-here?!" she demanded. Her words were slurred, her heels muddy. She was drunk already. "Get inside, now!" roughly; she manhandled him through the door, giving him only the time to glance back over his shoulder, to see a jewelled brunette making their way towards Dean. "Lisa…" was all he heard before the music stole his hearing.

The night passed in a blur. Castiel was only dimly aware of the fact that it had hardly been ten minutes since he was outside – he was bored, alone, and he wanted to go home. Almost as soon as Anna and him had started dancing, or Anna was dancing and he was attempting to, she had been swept away by a tall blonde man that Castiel simply didn't have the energy for telling him to back off. So he danced alone for a bit, fighting off girls by turning his back on them when they approached. He had managed to make his way over to the door again; he couldn't see Anna in sight. The music hadn't sounded like it had changed, but bodies were screaming and cheering in delight as they twerked and rubbed against one another now. Cas' eyes widened in shock as he fumbled for the door handle behind his back, falling through it with a "ugh!"

He landed flat on his arse, rolling over onto his back. He lay there, staring up at the sky, wishing he could see the stars if it weren't for all the lights burning in the house. Out here, the air was chilled and frisky. The wind raged upon his skin, tugging at his costume robe and pricking the hairs on his skin into full alert. He lay there, quite peacefully.

"I've had enough Dean!"

"Lisa…"

"No, don't 'Lisa' me! Dean, I never see you anymore. You're always fucking off all hours of the day, and for what? You give me NO. GOOD. REASON."

Castiel lay motionless on the ground. From where he was, he could glimpse round the corner of the house, seeing two silhouettes standing away from each other, one tall and one short. He could barely make out the figures, but he knew it was Lisa and Dean. And he could hear their whole conversation. Castiel knew he should move; give his friend some privacy – but this sounded like a breakup. This sounded bad. And Castiel really wanted to hear this.

"Lisa, I can explain."

"NO, DEAN! You've had time to explain and you never have. There's someone else isn't there? You're shagging someone else on the side! And you've been doing it this whole time! The whole time we've been going out!" she stamped her foot, advancing on Dean, "ADMITT IT! You answer your phone and then you _leave. _It's her calling isn't it, it's someone else. TELL ME!" she screeched the last part.

Even from where he was, Castiel could hear Dean sigh. He knew the sound too well to mistaken it for anything else. He braced himself for a torrent of Dean's accusing words thrown back at her, but none came. He opened his mouth and snapped it shut again, looking away from her. "Yeah." He said, towards the ground. "Yeah, there is someone else. Has been this whole time." The sudden silence was broken by the sound of palm hitting cheek. And again. Twice, she hit him; twice he made no attempt to correct himself. What was he doing? Cas had no idea, yet he was inclined to stay in the same position until Lisa or Dean moved away, and he could pretend like he hadn't been eavesdropping the whole time. He watched as Lisa stalked away, into the house, slamming the door shut behind her. She was gone.

Castiel rolled onto his stomach before standing up, his wings askew and halo falling off. Dean was still where Lisa had left him. He hadn't moved a muscle, not even to soothe his burning cheeks. Castiel approached him with ease, hoping not to be unwelcome or startle him. "Dean?" he prosed, not stepping too close. "Cas." Was all Dean answered.

"Are you okay?"

"Do I look okay?"

"Not particularly."

"Then I ain't okay." Dean was being defensive, he knew that. He shouldn't be. It wasn't Castiel's fault. He had just lied to Lisa for no good reason – why had he done that? He himself couldn't even fathom the answer. His phone began to buzz, lightening up as "Sammy Calling." Dean glanced just once at it before making a snap-choice decision.

"Cas, can you give me a ride? I've been drinking; Sammy and Adam want me home. Something's wrong." Dean's eyes held kept back emotion, threatening to spill and pour over the edge. He was trying hard to keep a hold on himself, letting his voice slip out of hurt or worry. Castiel saw this, and simply nodded in response. Together they slipped across the side of the house and down the steep hill towards Castiel's shiny car, hidden in the darkness of the trees. They walked without a word, climbed into the seats and as Cas revved the engine and began to pull away, Cas was sure he heard Dean choke on a sob. He didn't say anything, neither of them did. The car was cool and quiet in the black of the midnight despite the music still pounding through the air outside. There were still people for miles out, stumbling and crying on the ground and kissing up against trees as they cruised past. Castiel averted his eyes whenever an intimate couple came into view. He glanced over at Dean instead, who was clutching onto his phone as if it were his lifeline. Every so often it flashed and Dean jumped up, but it was never whom he was expecting as he always sagged with disappointment afterwards. Whenever Castiel noticed this, he was tempted to lay a reassuring hand on Dean's knee, similarly what Dean had done to him in the swirl of heat before, but he never did. He kept both hands absolutely on ten and two on the steering wheel, eyes only diverting from the road when it was safe. They were almost halfway to Dean's place when his phone rang and this time, he jumped to answer it straight away.

"Sam? Sam, are you okay? I'm on my way don't-" Cas heard a muffled noise like laughter on the other side of the phone, Dean's face crumbled into confusion. "Sammy?" he asked again, holding the phone tight with both hands.

There was muffled noise again; Cas couldn't make out entirely what was going on. He kept furtively glancing between the road and Dean, the road and Dean. The road was completely dead anyway, but he was a cautious driver; he wouldn't let Dean get hurt. Dean ended the call and woodenly put the phone into his pocket, leaning back into the seat as he rubbed him hands on his thighs. Cas would have missed his talking by watching them, but something in Dean's voice made him listen carefully.

"I'm really sorry about this Cas, I mean you drove all this way out…"

"What is it Dean? It something wrong?" his face contorted. "Did something happen to your brothers?"

Dean sighed. "Nothing like that. An old friend of our dad's – Bobby – well, Sam called him and now he's over at ours. They're having fun, they're fine now." He paused before continuing, choosing his words with care. "Adam was terrified of the woods out the back but he's fine now Bobby's there."

"So, is there a problem?" Cas smiled, his lips only slightly twitching.

"No…No. Sam insisted I didn't come home, have a night off from babysitting. Basically, I'm forbidden from coming home tonight." He shook his head, pondering.

"You want to go back to the party? It's only one, we could make it. I don't mind the drive." Internally, Castiel shivered at the thought of returning to that Hell House. He was not prepared for college parties, no, not at all. He was praying that Dean would choose somewhere else and almost kissed his feet when he did.

"Nah, what's the point? I was only there for Lisa anyway."

"Then, where shall we go?"

"We could go out, grab a bite… although, is anywhere open this time of night?"

"It's a Thursday. Places usually close at ten on Thursdays. Eleven if we're lucky." This time, it was Castiel who hesitated before answering. "You could just crash at mine; it's actually not far from here. And, I'm going that way anyway." He shyly smiled at Dean, welcoming him into replying. His heart pounded against his ribcage from asking such a daring question, why would Dean – the best looking man Castiel had ever laid eyes on – want to come to his house when he could be at the party.

Castiel was surprised by Dean's immediate answer of "yes."

Dean slept on the sofa that night. Castiel offered him his bed, cursing the fact that his grand piano took up all the space in his spare room, but Dean insisted he'd be fine there. Castiel had attempted to stifle his yawns around Dean, wishing to stay up and talk, but evidently he didn't do it very well as Dean promptly demanded he go to sleep, saying he'd had enough excitement for one night. Castiel had retired to bed and was asleep in seconds.

Dean took a lot longer to fall asleep. He felt dejected and angry about Lisa, but somehow strangely relieved at the same time. It was like he had been her ball and chain, and now she'd cut him free he was able to roll wherever he liked. He could do what he wanted for the first time in years – well, within reason. He also had to keep Sammy and Adam in his mind before he did anything reckless. Despite being fully aware that he needed sleep and that Castiel's cushions were amazingly comfy, he couldn't seem to drift off peacefully. He thought he may have been too hot and stripped down to his boxers, laying on top of the blankets before realising he was freezing and bundling himself up in them. Still, he couldn't sleep. Castiel had gone to sleep ages ago; Dean could hear him snoring through the open door of his bedroom. Annoyed, Dean threw back the covers and paced around the room, feet padding in the same way Cas' slippers do. At first, Dean only started walking around the kitchen and living room. Eventually, this wasn't enough for Dean's restless attitude; he ended up later stalking the halls and poking into the spare room and bathroom just so exercise his muscles.

Around 6am, Dean's legs had had enough and his body slumped with sleep. He awkwardly tried to stumble from the spare room into bed again, but was caught as he kicked his foot into the side of Castiel's door. "Son of a bitch!" he exclaimed through gritted teeth as he held his throbbing toe. He'd only stubbed it, but it hurt like a bitch. Dean leaned back against the wall, holding his foot in his hand and swearing still under his breath. When he was able to walk again, he placed his foot delicately on the ground and stood, back straight, head held high. This was when he saw him.

Through the open door of Castiel's bedroom, Dean could see everything. In the centre of his bedroom stood a large king-sized bed, overpowering the room itself with its majestic nature. However, it wasn't the bed that Dean was focusing on. It was who lay on the bed, in a deep slumber, oblivious to the fact that he was being watched. Dean's green eyes raked over the body sprawled spread-eagle, silky covers intertwined with his ankles, knees, thighs. They reveal only glimpses of his muscular, tanned legs, streaked dark with hair, matching the black covers. The sheets didn't cover the rest of his body, so Dean rose his eyes greedily up, drinking in every curve and line. Castiel was wearing white boxers, hung low on the waist and straining tight over his groin. Dean almost – almost – let out a groan; he felt his dick stir in his pants for the first time in months. Still, he kept looking. Arms thrown above his head, Castiel's stomach was open and hard, lines of his muscles stood out dimly, giving the hint of a slightly-less-toned physique than Dean himself. There was only a dusting of dark hairs below his belly button, the rest of his chest was smooth and looked soft to the touch. Glancing at the hairs that disappeared into Castiel's underwear, Dean couldn't help but picture himself following the trail, running his hands through it, finding the treasure that it resulted in. Dean shivered then, goose bumps erupting across his skin. He lastly gazed upon Castiel's sweet angelic head, rested on the cushion of his bicep that bulged impressively. He was surprised that Cas was so toned, he hadn't expected a pot belly and flab but… he definitely hadn't expected this. Cas still had glitter dancing across his cheeks, some shifted and fluttered onto his chest when breathed out and in again. His face held a calm, relaxed expression and his eyes fluttered slightly as if he were dreaming. Dean couldn't bring himself to look away – this man was… beyond beautiful. He wanted to crawl right into bed beside him, wrap his arms around his broad chest and nuzzle into his neck and hear him sigh his name. He only allowed himself a few more seconds of staring before he stole away to bed, embarrassed and ashamed at himself for behaving the way he did. He fell asleep holding his rock hard dick in his hands.

Castiel woke up early the next morning, just a little bit after 6.30am. When he rubbed his hands on his face and noticed he was sparkling with glitter, he decided that now would best be the time for a shower. He stripped naked, running a hand through his tousled hair as he walked towards the bathroom, turning the shower on full heat and relishing in the warm for a while. When he got out, he wrapped a towel tightly around his waist and strolled into the kitchen… when he forgot Dean was sleeping soundly. He froze on the spot, one hand clutching tightly onto the knot in his towel that he know worried would come loose and reveal himself to Dean – but he needn't have been worried. Dean was flopped across the whole sofa, rolled up in blankets, but completely and utterly, butt naked. Castiel couldn't help but stare at him while he had the chance – though he quickly stole his eyes away and retreated to his bedroom when he saw Dean stirring. His heart skipped beats. Castiel pressed his palm to his chest as he slouched against his now closed door, trying to take deep, calming breaths. It was no use. His manhood had realised that there was a gorgeous, naked man, lying on his own couch, looking completely blissed out and peaceful – and he wanted him. Right now. Castiel's dick stood to attention, red and hot in the morning way. Castiel whimpered, staring up at his ceiling as his cursed Dean Winchester to Hell and back – goddammit Dean, why did you have to be so god-damn hot?! He didn't know what to do – a part of him wanted to stroll right back into his own living room, straddle Dean and tongue him awake until Dean gave him what he wanted… but he couldn't risk that. He knew Dean wasn't gay, but my god, how he wished he was. The things Cas would love to do to him. Cas decided he simply had to settle for the second option – stay in his own room, stroke him own cock, and try to keep as quiet as possible. He found this very difficult as Dean was mere feet away from him, sprawled and uncovered – but this simply allowed him to cum faster.

"Morning, Cas." Dean drawled out, now dressed back in his boxers and last night's costume and sitting at the breakfast table. He had woken only a few minutes ago, it was now advancing towards 10am – the sun was shining thinly through the mesh curtains and lit up a smile on his face. Cas regarded him with a lazy smile. He'd jumped in the shower again after his morning workout session involving his hand and Dean in his mind; his hair was damp and flopping adorably in his face, his skin shone with dewy wetness which glowed under the November sun.

"Morning!" Cas was chirpy, a smile occupied his greeting along with a clap on the shoulder. "Did you sleep well?" Cas grinned to himself, knowing fine well that Dean had slept _fine_. He wouldn't risk bringing this up, though – how could he tell Dean he watched him naked, vulnerable, and retreated into his bedroom to act on devilish thoughts? His smile dropped a centimetre but he continued all the same. The kettle was already boiling when he advanced towards it.

"Yeah, I slept great. Took me a while to get there though."

"Really? I didn't hear you up."

"I didn't want to wake you, you seemed knackered last night."

"I was… I still am." The kettle whistled and he turned his back on Dean, grin hitching up a notch. "Tea? Or coffee?"

"Coffee please. No sugar." Dean toyed with his headband he'd thrown on the table when they'd come in, it stood out brightly upon Cas' wooden table top. "Do you mind if I borrow some clothes to go home in? This is a little… Walk of shame-like for me." he gestured to the top of his costume, Cas turning round to laugh outloud at him. Last night he'd been so distressed and concerned with getting Dean home, he hadn't realised that their costumes had in fact matched – to a degree. The sleek red Lycra suit clung to every muscle of Dean's body, leaving little the imagination. A red pointed tail hung over the seat he was slumped on, dangling towards the floor.

"You _don't _want to go home like that? Why ever not, Dean?"

"Ha, ha. Very funny. People might get the wrong idea." Although he wished very much that their ideas were right. He'd done a lot of thinking last night – a lot. After seeing Castiel practically naked, his dreams were full of images of Lisa's angry face, his lust and Castiel and him alone together. They were messed up and confusing, but he could understand the general gist of them. He was attracted to Cas. Like hell was he ever going to let it show.

Cas skipped over Dean's last comment and placed his coffee in front of him, muttering an excuse to leave the room. Once in his closet, he rifled through clothes that he thought Dean would love – whether on him or himself. He settled for new jeans and a plain black t-shirt, matching a slim jacket for the cold weather. He threw them at Dean's head when he returned, chuckling as he picked up his tea and took a large drink.

"I got a text from Sam while you were gone – demanding that I can't come home tonight either. Bobby's taking them to the cinema apparently, and I'm to stay out and have 'fun'." He sighed, inhaling his coffee while he pushed the clothes to the floor.

Cas visibly paled. "You're not having fun here?"

"No! That's not what I meant. I don't want to be a burden that's all – it's cool if I still stay here tonight, yeah?"

"It'd be a pleasure." He picked up the top that had fallen near his head, stuffing it over Dean's face. "Get dressed. We're going out for lunch."

They didn't just go out for lunch. They had lunch, they went mini-golfing, and then they had dinner out. They finally got home a full twelve hours after they left – stuffed to the brim and crying with laughter. Cas couldn't remember a time when he'd had such a good day – it must have been sometime with Gabriel before he became a douche and preferred chatting up women as opposed to hanging out with him. All day, Castiel had caught people staring at them, smiling. It was pleasant to see that the world was becoming a more accepting place with homosexual couples, despite the fact that Cas and Dean were only out as friends. Cas liked this fact.

They hadn't necessarily acted like friends when they'd been out. Cas had thought Dean would need cheering up after his oh-so-recent breakup; but Dean had been ecstatic all day. He cracked jokes, teased Cas and even let him win at mini-golf one round. He insisted he paid for dinner, though that was quickly shut down by Cas when the bill arrived when Dean was in the bathroom. They had never stopped talking all day, about nothing, small insignificant stories about themselves, their family, their work and university. It was such a pleasurable day out, Cas hadn't wanted to day to end. He almost felt upset when Dean suggested they retired home – but lightened up immediately when Dean then proposed that they watch the entire Die Hard movie marathon. Of course, they had climbed into Cas' car at once and raced home, Castiel even driving over the speed limit. Cas didn't know what happened to himself when Dean was with him, but he loved it.

"Hurry up Dean! It's just about to start!" Cas whined from his spot on the sofa, waving the remote in the air in irritation.

"You have TiVo, _pause it_!" Dean shouted from the other room, a smile in his voice. "Right, I'm coming!"

"HURRY UP OR I'M STARTING IT WITHOUT YOU."

"DON'T YOU DA-"

"It's starting."

"You mother-" there was a slide of feet as Dean skidded down the hallway, testing out Castiel's socks. He ran into the room, ready to tackle Castiel if he'd dared press play, not paying complete attention to where he was going. "I swear…" he slid at a fast speed towards the couch.

Without warning, there was a CRASH followed by the sickening sound of flesh smacking the floor. An exhalation of breath and a faint "arggh!" completed the action, silence ensued. Castiel had turned to look as soon as Dean entered the room, a smile that had been tattooed upon it from today quickly smeared from his face. Dean lay on the wooden floor of Castiel's living room, unconscious. The oak shelf that had been on Castiel's wall was hanging on by its hinges, contents strewed across and all over Dean's limp body. There was a ripening bruise appearing on Dean's forehead, flushing his tanned skin to a horrific red and purple. "Dean!" Cas then yelled, rushing over the sofa to him, falling to his side and taking his head in his hands. "Dean! Dean! Wake up!" he let out a sob, breaking into the rooms startling silence. "Dean, please!" he brushed his possessions from Dean's body, a vase cutting a thin line in Dean's arm. Castiel didn't know what to do, for all he knew this man could be dying in his arms and Cas was without help. He began crying for real now, tears spurting down his face as he cradled Dean's head, bent over close to him. "Please god, tell me what to do!" he yelled out, never going to forgive himself if Dean died because of his fucking shelf. In one swift movement, he jumped up from the floor – placing Dean's head down gently before doing so – and raced to his glass of water, throwing it over Dean's face in a valiant attempt to wake him up. He slapped him, once, twice, three times. Nothing had happened at all until the third slap.

"Argh! Fuck, urgh! Oh my god, what the _fuck_?" Profanities spilled from Dean's mouth, twisting his head in Castiel's lap to stare up at the wall hanging. "That fucking piece of shit – my fucking head!" he slapped a hand to his head, feeling around for the lump that Cas could tell was rapidly hardening on his forehead. "What did I… how did I…" he stopped, looking up at Castiel with tear-filled eyes, his hand still raised from the last slap, he was frozen as soon as Dean stirred. "Cas, did you fucking slap me?"

"Oh god, Dean!" Castiel broke down; his drying tears being flushed out by the fresh floods erupting down his face, his face screwed up and pathetic looking. "I thought you were dead! Oh god!" he bent over Dean, wiping his tears from where they'd fallen on Dean's face. "I am so, so sorry. That shelf is fucking leaving, it's going, oh my god, Dean! I'm so glad you're okay!"

"It's fine Cas, I blame the shelf, not you." Castiel loved the fact that Dean crack a joke in the after-math of his almost death. He sniggered low, still snuffling. "You look like you did when I first met you."

"What, red faced and disgusting?"

"Sniffling."

"Cas, I'm fine. I don't need to go to hospital." They were sat next to each other on the sofa, the TV not playing. Dean nuzzled an ice pack to his head, laid back on the cushions, head propped high. Castiel fussed next to him, placing his tea closer to him and even going to fetch a straw before Dean insisted he sit the fuck down. "I'm fine, I swear. Only a bump."

"I think you might have concussion. Do you feel dizzy? How many fingers am I holding up?" he waved his hands in Dean's face, Dean swatting them away half-heartedly. "Oh yeah, the guy who didn't know what to do when someone passes out knows _exactly _how to diagnose a concussion!"

Castiel shuffled, looking sheepish. "Sorry."

Dean sighed. "Don't be. It's not your fault, right? Mine for not watching my step. Then again, these are your socks." He tried to smile but Cas wasn't having it. He looked as dejected as ever. "Look, do you want to do something for me?"

Castiel jumped up, "yes! Anything! What do you need?" he nodded encouragingly at Dean. At this point, Dean was ready to believe that Cas would slay the last Bald Eagle in existence if it was what Dean wanted him to do. Dean knew he had Cas wrapped around his finger.

"Please, for the love of God – I bought beer to drink tonight." Cas was puzzled, he didn't see where Dean was going with this. "Drink it for me; I can't see precious things like that go to waste." He unleashed his dazzling smile upon Castiel, who was still looking at him in disbelief. He pouted his pretty-pink lips, eyes melting into Cas' until he finally gave in.

"Fine! But only a couple."

Castiel had drunk two by the time the next hour rolled around. And he was drunk. He knew he was drunk, Dean knew he was drunk, he just couldn't stop himself from _being _drunk. Dean felt guilty, he had meant to loosen Cas up, not leave him in a state of vulnerability – as Cas had now told him frequently: this is the first time he's ever had alcohol.

"Dean, I've never been drunk before."

"I know Castiel, you've told me. Like, a million times." Despite this, he smiled wanly at the drunken man beside him. He really was something to behold. His hair was sticking straight up, his glasses were sliding from his nose and his cheeks were stained with blood, but he looked exuberantly happy. "You've never called me Castiel before. Only ever Cas." He looked upset by this. "Why do you call me it now? Have I done something to offend you, Dean?"

"No, no! My heads a little sore right now, that's all."

"You have a c-c-concussion!"

"I don't!"

There was a pause as Cas took the final swig from his bottle. His tongue greedily searched from more drops, he ran it over the rounded top and down the neck of the bottle. Dean watched with a watering mouth. God, Cas looked sexy. He would love to know what it felt like to have Castiel like that all over his aching cock, licking and lapping, searching for the final drop. Cas plonked the bottle on the table loudly. "I'm a freak."

The words hardly made sense; they were so meek and mild following the hit of glass on wood. Castiel's head fell into his hands, rubbing his palms into his cheeks; a gesture not unlike Dean's when he too was upset. Immediately, Dean was by his side, cuddling Castiel under his shoulder. His arm reached easily around his back, his thumb stroking soothing circles just above Cas' elbow. "Cas, people always say things like that when they're drunk. You're not a freak."

"No, I am a freak Dean!" A strangled sob echoed around the room, haunting Dean. It was his fault he was so sad. Castiel hiccupped, turning his watery aqua eyes to bore into Deans. He choked on his next words. "I've never had a girlfriend, Dean." He hesitated, "I'm gay."

Dean laughed lightly, drawing Castiel closer into his side, feeling an overwhelming sense of protection over him. "I know, Cas. I knew as soon as I saw you. It doesn't change anything."

"Of course it does! Of course it does… I've never even been kissed by anybody. I'm a total loser, virgin."

"Being a virgin doesn't make you a loser."

"Then why was it tagged onto my locker in high school?" Dean was momentarily crushed. The weight of Cas' confession hung on his shoulders, dragging him down, down. The rush of empathy that filled him made him want to pull Cas onto his lap and hold him while he cried. Hold him until he stopped, until he clutched onto Dean and allowed Dean to make him laugh. He just wanted to make Castiel feel better, feel alive. Not feel like a loser, hell, if it wasn't for the many surrounding loose girls in Kansas, Dean would still be a virgin too. But he knew Castiel wasn't as strong as he was. Dean had had many friends growing up, Cas only had his brother and cousin; a fountain of tears flushed to Dean's eyes, blinked away quickly to not alarm Castiel. "Being a virgin does not make you a loser." He said again, more firmly this time. Cas stared up at him with his gooey eyes, innocent and infant like. The wave of emotion Dean felt now was not protection, not sympathy. It was much more, something he didn't quite understand, but he wanted to.

"Are you sure?" Cas asked him, his lips deliciously close to Dean's. Dean swallowed, running his tongue over his own lips. "I'm positive Cas."

"Then why hasn't anybody ever wanted to kiss me?" Castiel gulped, bottom lip trembling, a new batch of tears ready to bed shed.

Dean took a deep, relaxing breath. "Maybe because you never shut up." Dean memorised Castiel's flummoxed expression then, eyes taking snapshots of the moment, forever to be sealed in his mind. He hovered for a slight second, Cas' eyes growing wide when he realised what was happening. "Dean…" he whispered, lips barely touching.

"Shut up." Dean pressed his lips against Castiel's. His own chapped and crumbled, moulded perfectly against Cas' soft and plump ones; he poured all his feeling into his movements. Dean's calloused hand cradled Cas' face, the other coming to rest on his protruding hip. He held the kiss, not wanting to sully the moment by deepening it, just offering it, asking Cas to take it from him. When he felt Cas' lips push back on his, fireworks exploded in his heart.

Then, the phone rang.


End file.
